


Before & After

by tonystarking



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Coping, Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarking/pseuds/tonystarking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s a clearly defined before and after. That’s all I’m saying.”</p>
<p>“You could pick any arbitrary point in your life and say the same thing.”</p>
<p>But it's not the same thing. Maybe Rung doesn't understand that. One day he was whole, and the next he was a monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before & After

“There’s a clearly defined _before_ and _after._ That’s all I’m saying.”

“You could pick any arbitrary point in your life and say the same thing.”

“No. No, no, not like this. Before is shiny and happy and life and after is... everything else.”

“So you’ve never been happy--after this certain point?”

“No, I’m not saying that. There’s nothing better than hitting a guy square between the eyes, you know, Eyebrows?”

“It’s Ru--”

“And with the Wreckers, it was great. Maybe _happy_ isn’t the right word.”

“But you found that time enjoyable.”

“Enjoyable? Ah--yeah. Yeah, there’s been some enjoyable stuff.”

“So what is the true difference between _before_ and _after?”_

\---

_BEFORE_

Two eyes that could discern one cog from the next, flexible fingers that could hold the smallest gear steady, an entire life like a well composed pocketwatch. Hold it to your ear, listen to it tick. A sense of fulfillment at the end of each day, a presence like a radioactive ray of sunshine, a screw holding a gear in a watch in the pocket of the gods that tend the eons like a painting mid-creation.

_AFTER_

A headache--it’s dark--body aches--something’s wrong--depth perception is shit--cramps in my fingers--stiff hands--stand up--how?--standing--wobbling--blinking--only one eye--one eye?--why one?--shaking hands--look at hands--not the same-- _not the same-- **not the same**_ \--where are hands?--what--where--what are these?--claws?--not hands--not fingers--not me--look around--catch reflection in glass--not me--one eye--claws--not me at all--not me-- _not me-- **not me--**_

\---

“So the event itself is the catalyst of your becoming."

“Becoming what I am now, yeah. That’s obvious.”

“Becoming _who_ you are.”

“Meh.”

“And you can narrow it down to an exact moment? A second in time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was it the exact moment those men destroyed your shop? The exact moment you lost your hands? Or--”

“I _don’t_ want to talk about my hands.”

“But in your mind, you can pinpoint the exact moment you changed?”

“Moment? I mean, it was like… the whole _thing.”_

“So a series of moments.”

“Sorta.”

“So it’s not a _before_ and _after_ of a second.”

“No, but like--a bunch of them that formed one really shitty whole event thingy--”

“So at no point during this event were you content? You found no joy in that period of time whatsoever?”

“No.”

“None at all?”

_“No.”_

\---

_BEFORE_

A change in career from someone who watches death to someone who brings watches to life. A job, a shop, a home, a person, content by himself--at first. But he doesn’t have to stay alone, he knows that loneliness is a temporary state of being that can be changed with enough time. And someone who has a job, a shop, a home, someone whole and complete can easily find places to wile away the seconds, minutes, hours, nights, and can find someone else whole and complete to accompany him.

_AFTER_

His frame burns, but he ignores it. The tingle down his spinal column rests between his legs, but he brushes it away. How easily he used to wrap himself up in someone for a night or two, plunge so deeply into them he didn’t know where he stopped and they began. But now--touch someone-- _with these hands?_ Look at someone-- _with this face?_ His room is dark so he doesn’t catch his reflection in the window glass. He ignores his impulses because he can’t even bring himself to touch his own spike with claws that do little but fumble and pinch. Why inflict that on someone else? No. Frag that. _Frag that. **Frag that.**_ With each curse, he slams his head into the wall.

\---

“What are you trying to say, Doc?”

“I’m saying that it’s not a _before_ and _after_ so much as an era. Whether it was days or weeks, it was a period of time. Like a metamorphosis. Think of that defining event as a cocoon to form you into who you are now.”

“And bam! I came out a really ugly butterfly. You know, if you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re not doing a very good job.”

“It’s more about acceptance. You must accept who you are now if you wish to find current contentment.”

“Do you tell all the monsters in your office to accept themselves? Wait--don’t answer that, I know you see Megatron.”

“So after your cocoon, so to speak, you see yourself as a monster. What about before, then? If you truly believe you were one thing before and a completely different thing after, what were you before?”

“I…”

\---

_BEFORE_

He smiles. He frowns. He flexes the joints of his fingers as he picks up a gear. Time to do what no one does better than him.

_AFTER_

He looks down the scope. Narrows his eye. Claw clutches the trigger. Time to do what no one does better than him.

\---

“Where are you going?”

“I think that’s enough for today, Eyebrows.”

“Yes. Yes, I think that’s enough.”

“But Doc--one question. If the event didn’t _make_ me a monster, wouldn’t that mean that I’ve always _been_ a monster?”

“Quite the opposite. Perhaps you’ve never been a monster at all.”

“...”

“Nothing to say to that? You’re not one for silence.”

“Ha! Nah--just didn’t want to tell you how wrong you are. See ya next time.”

\---

_AFTER_

He carefully, _carefully_ picks up the small gear between his claws, lowering it into the open black box. He settles it in its correct location then chooses a magnetized screwdriver with attached tiny screw to gently tighten the gear into its place with a simply wrist rotation.

The clock turns on and displays the time.

“It’s wrong,” he says.

But he doesn’t destroy it.

He just looks down, in silent contentment.


End file.
